The Long Way Home
by Atypicall
Summary: People always say 'you can't go home again'. Because home is never quite what you remember. My alternate version of season 2/3. What if Sophia lived? What if someone else made it to Woodbury? This story features everyone in the ensemble though Daryl, Carol & Shane are my favs. No pairings yet. OC's are introduced.
1. Chapter 1

Title:

A/N: I will say that this story is based on the world of the show, not the graphic novel. I have yet to read it, though now I really want to. This is going to be slightly AU, in that Sophia is found alive, and others die/don't, differing in order to the show. I thought her being alive would really alter the dynamic among the group. I am introducing 3 OC's.

Disclaimer: The only ones I own are the ones you never saw on TV, or read in the comic.

This shit didn't sit with him. Waitin'. Sittin' on his hands. Fuckin' useless bunch of roundabout talk gettin none of them nowhere. And in the meantime, Sophia was out in the woods, alone. At least, hopefully alone. Daryl Dixon had been nearly as reluctant as Carol, the girl's mother, to leave the stretch of highway they'd last seen her. It was easier to be there, to track from the source, than having to come at it from the backside, from this farm. It was too easy to miss an important sign, coming at it like that. But he hadn't been kidding when he'd told Andrea what he had. The kid was lucky. She had people lookin'. People who cared.

Daryl chewed silently on the inside of his cheek while Rick and Shane argued the finer points of priorities. Again. Not like Daryl didn't know Rick's already. Not that he even really blamed the man. His son, shot up and clinging to life. Rick's mind was understandably occupied, and Daryl might have had something to say if Rick had seen otherwise. He was a good man, a good father. If only everyone could be so lucky. And Shane, well Shane had a soft spot for Carl too, so really the two idiots were arguin' for no particular fuckin' reason at all.

And he just itched to be done with it. To move, to get back on Sophia's trail. He knew he was usin' Sophia as an excuse, but really, what else did he have to do? This gave him a purpose. Moving had purpose, hunting had purpose. Sittin' on his ass on a farm? Didn't suit him. Truth of it though? After Atlanta, after the CDC, they needed to find Sophia. They needed this win. Truth? After Merle? He needed it too.

Carol met his eyes from across the porch. She had her arms clenched close to her chest, gnawing at the fingernails on her right hand. She looked pale, and fretful, which for Carol, was saying something. She was quieter than the rest, and the fear was easy to see. But there was a survivor there too, a woman with more grit and fight than even she knew. He'd seen it for himself after she'd turned her former husband's skull into bloody pulp. He nodded to her once, readjusted the crossbow across his shoulder, then swung his legs up and over the porch railing he'd been perched on, dropping onto the grass below before stalking away without so much s a glance to the others. Screw it, he had a kid to find.

The bottom portion of an old farmhouse pantry wasn't exactly luxuriously roomy, even for a skinny preadolescent girl, but to Sophia it may as well have been a four star hotel with mints on the pillows. Especially after she found the blanket and unsoiled pillow. It was getting late, and she was exhausted. It had taken her most of the day to get clear of the three walkers that followed her, not the ones that she had seen making her way back to the highway, these were different. But she was so lost.

She'd been trying to do what Mr. Grimes had told her. Head back to the highway, the sun on her left shoulder. But then she'd seen the two walkers, sidling out of some brush on her left, and her course had taken a sudden and abrupt turn. Terror had taken control of her feet and she'd just ran, and ran. Til when she'd finally stopped in the dying light of the day, assured at last that they had not seen or followed her, she realized that she stood alone amongst the trees. Trees that all looked exactly the same. And she realized the that she was lost, again. Tears came, and she clutched her doll close up against her chest. She didn't dare cry out either.

She'd spent that first night as high up in a good sized tree as she could manage. The rough bark scratched her bare arms and legs, but she didn't care. She wasn't spending the night on the forest floor. Uh uh. No way. But the thing about sleeping in trees? You were always afraid you were gonna fall, so you really didn't sleep at all. Mostly she just cried, shivering as the temperature dropped in the cloudless black sky.

In the morning she shimmied back down the tree. She tried to remember which way she'd come, but it looked the same as it had the night before. There were just trees, everywhere. So she'd started walking. She stumbled upon the three walkers in a small clearing, devouring what was left of some animal. Deer, bear, dog, who could tell? She hadn't meant to scream, but they'd surprised her. She'd turned and fled. A couple of times later in the day she'd tried stopping, but it felt like every time she'd caught her breath they were there again and she was off again.

The house had been a stroke of pure, dumb luck. She'd happened upon it late in the afternoon. She'd stumbled up to it on legs that had gone from tired to trembling some good while before. Arms hung weakly at her side, and her doll dangled at her fingertips. The windows on it were boarded, but thankfully the front door was unlocked. None of the walkers were in sight, so she'd gone in, closing the door behind her and latching the deadbolt.

She wanted to check all the rooms, but her legs took her no farther than the kitchen. She went to the refrigerator first, out of habit maybe more than anything. The foul stench of rotting food hit her nose the moment she opened it, but she almost didn't notice. Rotting food had nothing on rotting human flesh. She couldn't believe her eyes when she saw it, a bottle of water, nearly half full. She reached eagerly past rotten tomatoes and molding asparagus for it. She drank most of it without taking her lips off the bottle, taking huge gulps as the excess sluiced over her chin.

There was a little left at the bottom, a swallow or two at most, but Sophia carefully sealed the bottle, setting it on the dusty kitchen table. Then she shut the door. Thirst quenched, she realized her stomach was still growling. Not trusting anything in the fridge, Sophia turned her attention to the rest of the kitchen. There was a pantry door hung half open, so she went to investigate. Cereal maybe? Some nuts or a can of beans? Her face fell when she saw that all had been left in the cupboard were spices and baking soda. About to shut the door, she spied a can on the floor. Sardines.

Outside, there came a scratch. Sophia jumped, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Tears pricked at her eyes again. She wanted her mom. She wanted to be back with the other in the caravan, where the fear of what the world had become was muted by the strength of those with whom she travelled. Mr Grimes and Mr Shane, kept her and her mom safe. She missed them all. Clutching the sardines and her doll close to her chest, she knelt, wedging herself into the space beneath the lowest shelf. It was a tight fit, but she could manage, and the feeling of walls pressing around her was somehow comforting. She devoured the sardines in the dark without tasting them, and was asleep within minutes.

It was hard to leave the house the next day. In fact, she put it off until late in the morning. But it wasn't like she could stay. No more food, no water. And they were waiting for her on the highway. Her mom would be there. If she was sure of only one thing that was it, she had to get back to her. So she left her little safe haven behind, and she walked. She had no way to know that had she only stayed a few hours longer, Daryl would have stumbled upon her.

As it was, Sophia's only directional guide was the river bed. If she could find the river, she thought, she could find her way back to the highway. Find where Mr. Grimes had hidden her, then keep the sun on her left shoulder. She would do it right this time, she assured herself. She had to.

"We've been walking for hourrrssss..."

"Kyle, hon, I love you like my brother, mostly because you are, but it's been like 30 minutes, tops." Brown eyes flicked briefly to the young man walking beside and two steps to the rear, rolling skyward. He returned the look by curling his lip in a sneer, and then sticking out his tongue. "Mature Kyle, real mature."

"We wouldn't be out here at all if someone had thought enough to stow a couple extra gas containers before we left Savannah," a third voice broke in, sounding far less amused at the situation that his fellow compatriots.

"Well maybe is someone had listened and taken the 50 mile to the gallon hybrid I found, instead of the 10 mile to the gallon SUV, we wouldn't be here either." The woman with the brown eyes shot back at the third man.

He, Ryan, huffed a little, hunching his wide shoulders forward in a shrug. "The SUV could take more gear," he countered stubbornly.

"Yeah, because we're seriously burdened by a copious amount of stuff," she retorted, hiking her woefully empty knapsack higher on her left shoulder. She kept her right hand on the hilt of a large hunting blade. For all the attention she paid the two men she travelled with, her eyes never ceased roaming the forest for long. It would be easy here for one of those dead things to creep out from behind some tree and get the drop on them if they didn't stay wary. And wary was what had kept the three of them alive, for this long at least.

"Ohhh, lover's spat," Kyle's dark eyebrows shot up into his hairline, dark ringlets matting over half his brow. He really did need a haircut. "Don't want lil ole me gettin in the middle of that mess. Leave me out of it!" Ryan grumbled incoherently and stalked ahead, while Kyle shot his sister an encouraging smile. When the two of them got into it, they really got into it. Best to save everyone that trouble. 'Thank you,' she mouthed.

The three lapsed into a tense, but welcome silence after that. The siblings let Ryan take point. The hulking, former college linebacker preferred it that way. Still, she eyed the gun Ryan kept holstered in his belt warily. She never got much of a sense that he actually knew how to use it. And what good was it if all it did was attract every single geek nearby? Ryan didn't see it that way though, and carrying it made him feel safer, stronger. So fine, let him hold on to his delusion.

As the afternoon light waned, all three travelers grew worried. Stuck out in the dark, with no shelter and minimal firepower, was a less than ideal situation. So when the sound of heavy breathing and breaking branches reached their ears, all of them tensed, huddling close together in a circle. The woman took out her knife and Kyle hefted a baseball bat in both hands. Ryan drew his gun, but the woman put a restraining hand on his bicep.

None of them were ready for a little girl to come sprinting out of the undergrowth, head cocked behind her, flying headlong into Kyle. The kid screamed, thrashing wildly. Quickly stowing the hunting knife, the woman wrapped her arms around the kid, pulling her close and clamping her right hand down over her mouth. Kid was a God damn beacon. "Hey, hey," she kept her voice low and soothing, even though soothed was the very last thing she felt. "It's okay. You're okay. We're not gonna hurt you."

Though she could feel the small body trembling uncontrollably, the little girl nodded beneath her hand. "Please don't scream." Another nod. Slowly, she pulled her hand away from the kid's mouth and turned her so she could see her face. The kid's face was streaked with dirt, her hair matted and tangled, but all cleaned up she would be quite pretty. Maybe ten or twelve, and in need of more than a couple good meals. Her blue T-shirt was nearly gray with filth and she clutched a raggedy doll close to her chest.

"What's your name kid?" A hundred other questions raced through the woman's mind. What the hell was a little girl doing out in the woods by herself? Where were her parents? How long had she been out here? How in hell had she managed to survive? But given how freaked the kid seemed, she opted for getting a name first.

"S...Sophia," the girl finally stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," the woman managed a smile. "Sophia, honey, where are your parents?" Sophia shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.

"We don't have time for this," Ryan muttered from nearby. "It's gettin dark. We need to find a place to hunker down, not play babysitter to some kid."

"Well we can't just leave her," Kyle interjected. "She's got geek bait written all over her."

"Better her than us," Ryan responded with a snarl. "We take her, she'll slow us down."

"Not up for discussion Ryan," the woman hissed, slipping Sophia's hand into her own. "Now can we go?" She turned to Sophia. "Honey, we'll have to find your folks in the morning, okay?" The girl didn't answer. She'd gone stock still, her face draining of blood. She began to backpedal. "What...?"

The smell hit her first, fetid and reeking. The woman's heart slammed to a halt. She pulled Sophia close to her, left hand hugging her protectively even as her right drew her knife. "Kyle! Ryan!" She hissed a quick warning, but they'd smelled it too. At her side, Sophia whimpered. Brown eyes flew all around, scanning the ever deepening shadows in the trees. She couldn't see. Where was it?

Suddenly, something grabbed hold of her knapsack, yanking her from her feet. She went down with Sophia still in her grasp, and the child shrieked in terror. The wind rushed from her lungs as the girl fell on top of her stomach. She heard the thing snarl, heard fabric rip as it tore at her backpack. She swiped blindly at the thing with her knife hand behind her head. She released Sophia and the child scrambled to her feet, and the woman attempted to shrug free of her pack.

She got one arm clear before a rotting hand missing it's index finger grabbed a hold of the front of her shirt. Then there was a sound of rushing air and heavy whump, and she was free. Kyle stood over her, panting, bloody bat in hand. The woman hurried to her feet, wrapping her brother in a one armed hug. But her relief was short lived. All around them, shadows stirred, as first one more geek emerged out of the darkness, and then another, and another. "Shit," she breathed. They were everywhere.

She pushed her brother in Sophia's direction. "We gotta get out of here!" she called, not bothering to be quiet anymore. "Kyle, get the kid!" She darted forward, sinking the blade hilt deep into the dead thing's forehead, before retreating a few paces, knife at the ready. She heard Ryan's gun go off somewhere close by. "I'll cover you!" she yelled, knocking another dead appendage aside before thrusting forward once more with her knife.

"But..."

"Get her out of here!" The woman yelled, sparing her bother the briefest glance. Kyle's face was taut as he turned from his sister, scooping Sophia up in one strong arm. The kid buried her face in his neck. The gun went off again. She edged after Kyle, keeping him in the corner of her eye, even as three geeks closed ranks around her. She sidestepped cattily, knife poised, taking out one of the thing's knees with a well placed kick. It went down, but kept coming. They always kept coming. She saw the kids doll in the leaves where she'd dropped it when Kyle had swooped her up. She stooped to retrieve it, she wasn't sure why, and stuffed it into her waistband.

Out of nowhere, a third geek appeared out of the dark, cutting her off from Kyle, Ryan and Sophia. She heard Kyle call out. "Run!" she bellowed. Then she darted back the way she'd come. One was directly in her path. With a grunt, she buried the knife in it's skull. As the geek crumpled to the earth, her blood soaked grip on the hunting knife slipped and she felt dread burst like a helium balloon inside her chest. "Shit, shit, shit," she cursed. She found her feet locked in place, gaze slipping between the knife embedded in the head of the creature at her feet, and the two remaining that lurched ever closer. The indecision lasted only a moment. Two against one. Not horrific odds, if she had her knife, but she didn't. And in the time it would take for her to retrieve her weapon they would be right on top of her. So she embarked on the only rational course of action left to her. She bolted.

No one had ever accused her of being a world class runner. Hell, no one had ever accused her of even being a 'good' runner. Not even in the prime of her collegiate athletic life. She'd always run only because it was necessary, an evil piece of the cardio puzzle leading to physical fitness. She ran now because it was necessary too, but for an entirely different reason. Her life. It was amazing what fear for one's life could do for a person's half mile split time.

But these geeks they'd come across were fresher than most, less hobbled by their own rotting, decaying appendages. They stayed close, close enough to still smell her anyway, close enough to just keep coming.

It was hard going in the dark, twisting brambles and roots threatening every step to take her down. Even the moon, bright and nearly full was shrouded til nearly gone by the thick, intertwining branches and leaves overhead. The going forced her pace to slow, because as much as she wanted to fly headlong and heedless over her chosen path, a broken ankle would be the end of her for sure.

One for sure had followed her. It was close enough for her to hear the clicking of its teeth, the low growl in its throat. She spotted another to her left, one that noticed her too, and veered in her direction.

A terrified whine escaped her lips as she made another desperate push forward, shoving herself through a gnarled stand of bushes. But she hadn't paid enough attention, and her foot found something unexpected. Empty air. She fell with a screech and windmilling arms, body twisting. She fell on the flat of her back, her head snapping back onto something hard. She saw a flash of red, and then her vision swam, fading to pinpoints. She stayed conscious long enough to see the first geek come through the same set of bushes she just had. She saw its foot hit the same dead air. And she saw it falling towards her, the rotting end of her life, just before she blacked out.

The first thing she noticed when she came to was the weight. "Ugh, God Ryan get off me," she grumbled. The second thing she noticed was the smell. And she remembered.

Panic filled her limbs with life. She flailed wildly, legs kicking, finger tearing at soft, wet earth as she dragged herself free. The body on top of her did not aid, or struggle, or move. Yanking the last of herself clear, she scrambled away on hands and knees, skin crawling, fighting the urge to be sick.

Grabbing a large rock in her right hand, she jumped to her feet and turned, ready to fight. But there was no need. The living dead thing had managed to impale itself on the broken branch of a felled tree. It had sunk straight through it's right eye, stopping somewhere in its skull. Had she fallen any farther left it could have been her. She shuddered and let the rock fall from her hand. Falling on top of her like it had, had probably saved her life. Dragging footprints of the second geek circled haphazardly up and down the stream bed before wandering off. Irony, right there.

As her pulse returned to normal, she became aware of how much she hurt. Her neck was stiff and her head throbbed. Gingerly, she reached back. No blood, thankfully. She looked around, trying to gain her bearings. The chill quickly leaving the air told her it was still morning, though maybe late. She peered up, shading her eyes with her hand as she located the sun. East. Not that that helped too much, since she had not a clue which direction she had come from the night before.

The best course of action would be to, of course, climb out where she'd fallen in and retrace her steps. A quick inspection of the riverbank nixed that idea shortly. The walls of the creek bed were more than ten feet high, totally sheer, and composed of soft, crumbling earth. A chunk of it broke easily away beneath her hand. No, climbing was out. She'd have to keep traveling until she found a place along the bank more feasible to get out. With a sigh she stooped, pickled up the rock she'd discarded once already and began her solitary trudge up the creek, walking in the silt in the opposite direction of the tracks of the still mobile geek.

Nearing midday, with the glare of the sun blinding her off the slowly meandering water, she heard something. The alarmed cry of an animal? A man's voice? She stopped at once, giving heavy consideration to the possibility that she was delirious. Her stomach rumbled painfully for food, and though the little creek taunted her, she doubted the water was potable. So she trudged on, the silt sucking at her boots, sometimes so deep it covered her ankles. To her dismay she found the banks of the creek growing higher, if perhaps less sheer.

Around a bend in the river she stopped dead. Another hundred yards or so in front of her, a small fall poured down into a swirling eddy, feeding the trickling creek. The crashing sound of breaking shrubbery made her heart slam in her chest. Her eyes swept desperately around her. The dead. The yell that came next ripped her eyes off the creek bed and up the left side of the ravine. Something was falling, something large and heavy. At first she couldn't make it out, but some halfway down the slop she saw it. A man, tumbling uncontrollably down the hill.

He came to a jarring halt on his back in a pool of stagnant water. He didn't move. She couldn't move either. Was he dead? Was he one of 'the' dead? She couldn't be sure, and until she was, she wasn't moving.

Out of the undergrowth on the far side of the falls, another figured emerged. And this one was definitely dead. She let out a small gasp, pressing herself hard up against the bank, and readjusted her grip on her rock. But the dead thing didn't head in her direction. Instead it moved ponderously toward the man on his back.

She watched. She could run. Hell, the smart thing to do would be run. But that meant leaving someone. To be eaten. That single thought was enough to break her out of her frozen position. The geek had reached the man, lowering itself to its knees at it pawed at the man's legs. She crept forward, quickly, and as stealthily as she could manage.

Preoccupied with its find, it never noticed her. She slammed her rock against eh back of its skull with all the force she could muster. it fell forward over the man's legs. She hit it again, and again, and again, until her whole fist would have fit inside the hole she'd made. Disgusted, she dropped the rock, plunging her hands into the water, purging her skin of the old blood and pieces of decaying gray matter. Then, grunting with effort, she rolled the thing off the man's legs, and bent over him for a closer inspection. God, but she wished she'd paid more attention to the emergency aid section of her health class in high school. He was breathing at least. Check that. And thank God.

Blood colored his temple just below his hair line. Choppy, uneven brown hair stuck at odd angles to a weathered face. His pants had holes everywhere, and the plaid shirt he wore had no sleeves, revealing strong arms. A crossbow lay by his right shoulder. She leaned forward, pressing her fingers awkwardly against his neck, trying to get a pulse. He stirred when she touched him, murmuring something she almost didn't catch. A name.

Angry blue eyes snapped open suddenly. She lurched backward even as he sat up, but his hand found her neck just the same. Strong fingers wrapped themselves around her throat and squeezed. She gagged, clawing desperately at his hands. She couldn't make him let go, and she couldn't breathe. An odd thought flashed through her head. Being choked to death, in the midst of the zombie apocalypse, was the absolute last way she'd thought she'd die.

Chapter 1

Okay, please review guys! I have a sketchy outline of where this is gonna go, and please, let me know any feedback you have!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

A/N: Okay, it always makes me nervous when no one reviews, good or bad. I know the first chapter was a little scattered, but hopefully everything will start coming together from here on out.

Disclaimer: I own the ones you did not see on TV. That is all.

(-)

"I'm... alive," the young brown haired woman choked on the words. She pushed hard against the man's chest. Her legs kicked out uselessly, trying to find purchase in the silt.

The blue eyes shifted over her shoulder, the man's lips curling into a sneer. Without warning, he flung her away from him like she weighed nothing at all, and she rolled over in the creek bed. She sucked in deep, gasping breaths, her heart still hammering wildly in her chest.

Meanwhile, in a surprisingly deft and fluid motion, Daryl had lurched up onto his knees, retrieved the rock the woman had discarded and propelled himself onto a second geek she hadn't noticed. He repeated her course of action, pummeling its skull until it too stopped moving. Then Daryl sank back to his knees, leaning back against the hefty trunk of a downed tree. He reached gingerly around his side with his right hand, his fingertips finding the head of the arrow that still protruded from his side. Carefully, he unwound his shirt from around the bolt's shaft. Shit, like fallin' down the damned ravine hadn't hurt enough the first time, but at least his binding had stopped the arrow from moving too much. His fingers came away soaked in his own blood. Bright red. Fresh. Not good.

He caught the woman staring at him several yards away, sat back on her ass on the wet ground, her knees tucked close to her chest. Dark bruises were already forming around her throat, which she probed tentatively with one hand. She looked scared, of him. The twinge of guilt he felt at that irritated him. What the hell did he have to feel sorry for? Some stupid girl, outta nowhere. "What?" he snapped. She cringed at the tone, but otherwise didn't move.

"You gonna kill me?" she asked, calmer than he would have guessed.

He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. "Not worth the trouble," he grumbled.

"Oh," she nodded, "good." Daryl scowled and returned his attention to his wound. Even the slightest movement aggravated it, bringing forth a new rush of blood. It left him light headed and in a cold sweat.

"You called me Merle," the girl's voice came again. Daryl stiffened.

"Thought you were a walker." Lie, but he wasn't about to explain.

"Funny nickname for a dead thing. Merle." He pointedly ignored her. "That looks bad," she ventured.

"Ain't good." He settled himself back against the trunk, fighting back a grimace as the muscles in his abdomen twisted in protest.

Tentatively she rose to her feet, holding her hands out in front of her. She retrieved the crossbow from where Daryl had discarded it while attacking the walker. His eyes stayed trained on her as she moved, tense, distrustful. She stopped a few feet in front of him, stretching her arm out to place the bow by his side, then backed up. "I could help you," she offered. "That needs tending, or you're just gonna keep bleeding. If I'm careful, I might be able to break the shaft so I can get it out."

Daryl shook his head. "Can't. Need it." He schooled his face into neutrality.

The woman sighed. "Look, I know out here having ammo is important, believe me, but you'll just have to make do with the others..."

"You blind?" he barked, grabbing the bow and thrusting it at her face. "Ain't no others. Only got the one."

"One arrow?" she repeated questioningly. "You came out here with one arrow? The arrow that's currently superimposed with your torso? That arrow?" Her voice rose as she talked, but Daryl didn't respond. He'd already explained it once. He wasn't in the mood to repeat himself.

"Great," she threw up her hands. "That's just great. So what do you suggest we do?"

"We? Fuckin' nothing." Daryl shook his head. We? Like he was gonna play babysitter to some lost girl who talked too much. He wasn't in the habit of pickin up strays. Rick and the rest of the group were more than enough to suit him.

She looked mildly surprised at the rebuke. "Just wanted to help," she said softly.

"You wanna help?" he mocked. "Come over here and yank this thing out of me."

"You want me to do what?"

"So you're blind, deaf and stupid? I need the arrow. You want to help? Come yank it out."

She bristled a little at that. Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was being called stupid after a really long 24 hours. "Yank it out he says," she grumbled lowly. "Like a band aid he says. Fuckin' hillbilly redneck wants me to yank an arrow out of his own flesh."

"Fine, if you're gonna be a pussy about it." Daryl reached down, grabbed the arrow just behind the head and began to pull. His weathered face went white as a sheet, sweat pouring down his neck, but it had to be done.

The woman grimaced, swallowing the bile rising up in her throat. "Okay, okay stop!" She couldn't believe anyone could do that. She couldn't imagine the pain the man was inflicting upon himself. "Just stop. I'll do it."

Teeth locked down to stifle any noise, Daryl released his grip. His breath came in giant, ragged gasps. "Well?" he hissed.

She knelt at his side, gripping the arrow shaft in her right hand before averting her gaze. She couldn't watch this. The arrow pulled fairly easily, till the fletching snagged on his flesh and Daryl grunted. Blue eyes met brown and he nodded assuredly. She pulled harder. There was a squelch of sucking blood and tearing flesh and for a moment she was pretty sure she was gonna be sick. The arrow slipped all the way free, though with it came a wash of fresh blood. Daryl's face relaxed and he held out his hand for the bolt,which she relinquished gratefully.

Using the tree trunk for support, Daryl pushed himself to his feet. He rocked unsteadily on his heels, the world listing crazily in front of his eyes. He went to take a step and his knees buckled. He was more than a little surprised when a set of arms caught him. "Don't fuckin' touch me!" he snarled, twisting out of the woman's grip. Unfortunately, his legs still didn't want to support him and he went down, crashing back into the tree trunk.

"Smart," the woman remarked dryly, crossing her hands over her chest. "Gotta bind that wound." She pointed to the stain growing on his shirt. "You're losing blood."

"No shit, really?" he shot back.

The woman frowned but ignored the barb, as it lacked any real venom. She was starting to get the impression that the guy's bark was worse than his bite. With a roll of her eyes she unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged out of it, revealing the black tank top she wore underneath and set of wide strong shoulders atop an otherwise lithe frame. Efficiently, she found a snare in the worn fabric and used it to rip the shirt in half, folding each to form a small pad.

"Here," she said gruffly, slapping one of the makeshift bandages over the exit wound. "Hold that," she ordered. Blue eyes continued to watch her suspiciously, but he pressed his hand to the pad without argument. Gathering the blood sodden remnants of Daryl's own shirt, she stretched those around his torso, using it to secure the second shirt-bandage on his back, before tying it off snugly.

She rocked back on her heels, satisfied. "There. Now," she looked around, "we gotta figure ourselves a way out of here."

"Simple," Daryl said. "Up." He jerked his chin toward the ravine wall. The one he'd already unsuccessfully tried to scale. But it was the surest way not to get turned around, the surest way to get back to the farm.

The woman eyed it dubiously. "Wasn't falling down that thing once enough for you?"

"Twice," he corrected her blandly as he clambered back to his feet, more slowly this time.

Her eyebrows shot upward. "Oh, even better." Daryl grunted. Either way, he needed to get up that hill, but he felt his own strength waning. Though he was short on water, the damned horse had run off with his canteen, he did have food. He reached around his back, pulling out the small squirrel he'd shot earlier that morning. He placed it on the tree trunk, retrieved his knife from the sheath at his hip and began to field dress the animal, gutting it in a matter of moments. "You really think now is the time for you to sit down and build a fire so you can have some lunch?"

Daryl glanced at her. "Nope," he said simply. While the woman watched, mortification growing on her face, he reached in and tore loose a piece of flesh, popping it in his mouth even as he heard the woman's squeak of protest. It amused him more than a little. He tore off another piece for himself before holding out the carcass. "Hungry?"

This guy was not for real. Though the truth was that she was starved, every civilized sensibility she had left to her screamed protest at the thought. Then her stomach growled again. "People eat raw fish," she said, mostly to herself. "Raw beef. This is just... squirrel carpaccio." Still, she hesitated.

"Whatever." Daryl began to withdraw the offering. Not like there was much for sharing in the first place.

"Wait," her voice stayed his hand. "You really are your own kind of special aren't you?" He didn't respond. Wincing slightly, she reached out and took a small shred of meat. It hovered by her lips for a moment before she finally forced her mouth open. It wasn't delicious, in fact it was a far cry, but it was food. She took another piece of the offering, then looked up to see the man watching her curiously. She suddenly got the impression she'd passed some kind of back woods survivalist test.

"Got a name?" Daryl asked as he finished off the last of the meat.

"Eddie," the woman replied. "My name's Eddie. You?"

"Daryl," he returned, wiping his fingers on his pant leg. "Ready to get out of here?"

"Hell yes. But what if we head back down the creek? The ravine tapers out a couple miles back. The banks are to high for one person, but with two of us..."

"Nah," he shook his head. "Take too long to get to my group, doubling back like that. We get out here."

"Your group? You have a group?" she asked, growing excited. "How many? I'm just with my brother Kyle and my boyfriend Ryan, and more people would just be so... awesome." The words came out almost faster than the laid back southern hunter could process them. "Well I mean, and then there's the kid we found, and I have no idea what we're gonna do with her. I mean she just comes out of nowhere, bam! And that's when things went to shit last night. And we got separated but she's with Kyle..."

"Wait, hold up there." His brow furrowed. "You found a girl last night?"

"Yeah. Cute kid, maybe ten? Or a little older? All on her own with nothing but this doll..." she trailed off, noticing for the first time that Daryl had a small, raggedy toy tucked in his belt. Her hand drifted to her waistband, where she'd stuck the kid's doll the night before. Missing. The one Daryl had was dirtier to be sure, but it was the same one. She hadn't remembered it when she'd come to. It must have floated down the stream. She pointed to the toy on his belt with one finger. "Why do you have her doll?"

"Kid gotta name?"

"Course she had a name. It was uh... Sus... Shar..." It was there, she knew it was, but the events of the night before had made remembering the kid's name a priority on the back burner.

"Sophia?" Daryl prompted. For the first time since she'd met him, Eddie saw the man soften. Hope overtook the bitter cast in his face. She let herself smile. End of the world, and it just kept getting smaller.

"Yeah, Sophia." Her smile grew as warmth flooded her chest. "She yours?" Funny, the guy didn't strike her as 'dad' material immediately offhand.

"Woman in the group. Got separated. Been lookin' for days."

"Well, at least when you get back you can tell her as of last night she was alive. She's with my brother. He'll keep a good eye on her I swear."

"You know where he's at?"

Eddie shook her head, sadness creeping through her eyes. "No. Like I said, things got rough last night. We got separated."

"Which leaves me in the same boat I was in this mornin', lookin' for a lost kid in the woods."

"But at lease she's not alone."

"Yeah. Somethin better than nothin' I guess." Daryl fell quiet, and the guardedness he'd let drop returned to him. "Come on." Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he trudged toward the side of the ravine. Steeling himself, he began his ascent.

Daryl was halfway up the incline when Merle returned to taunt him. He'd become weak, his brother goaded, dependent on those around him. He'd taken to following Rick, trusting him, the man that had cost Merle his hand, that had cost Daryl his brother. Officer Asshole's pet. And now he'd been reduced to what, tracker, babysitter, bloodhound? Only Eddie's presence lurking behind him kept him from flinging angry retorts at his brother's specter. Still, he grumbled under his breath at the vision, trying to shut Merle's voice from his mind as he climbed.

Eddie slipped again as a large chunk of earth slipped away beneath her foot. She tasted dirt on his tongue as she belly flopped against the ravine wall, clutching desperately with both hands at a protruding root. She let out a steadying breath, reset her feet, and pressed on. Every now and then she would hear Daryl muttering up ahead of her. She tried not to let it bother her. First other live person she'd encountered in weeks and he was delusional from blood loss, or head trauma, or both. And he had the only weapon. It wasn't exactly comforting.

Ahead of her Daryl stopped, swinging away from the ravine face. His skin was gray, and he'd stopped sweating. Neither of which were signs she found particularly encouraging. And then there was the talking to himself, IF he was talking to himself. If he wasn't... well, that was a whole other problem. But it was not one she felt the need to bring to his attention. Somehow she sensed he wouldn't take it well.

Daryl shook his head, clearing away the sort of vacant, glazed look he'd had on his face before. Gathering himself, he used a root to propel himself up the last few feet of the ravine, his hands finding purchase on the flat ground over the lip. He hauled himself resolutely over the edge. Eddie followed close behind. He offered no encouragement, or a hand. Survive, on her own merits, that was the deal. She couldn't exactly argue the point.

When Eddie strode up beside Daryl, they exchanged a glance, each knowing that the other had a choice to make. They had a common goal, find those they had lost. But they had no ties to each other, no real obligation to the other's interests. Each weighed the value of the other. Your worth, the strengths you offered for continued survival, that was the check and balance of life anymore. So, did they continue on together, or did they part and take their chances?

Eddie looked at Daryl. He was wounded, his strength flagging. She could see it in his posture, too strong, too erect for her to quite believe. The man was proud. If he passed out on his way back to his group he'd be finished. His blood would be on her hands. She couldn't be selfish, much as she wanted to find her brother. She had to stay. She'd take him as far as his people, then she'd find Kyle and the girl. It was only right.

And while those thoughts and more crossed her mind, Daryl assessed Eddie. She was a woman, alone and unarmed with zero discernible survival skills aside from what he could only attribute to pure dumb luck. She was tired, and she was scared. And if he left her alone she was liable to walk in circles until dark. And she'd protected Sophia, he reminded himself. Gave the girl the single shot in hell she'd need to survive. Abandoning her now would be tantamount to a death sentence. He couldn't do it. He'd take her back to the farm, get her out of harm's way and his hair and find her people and Sophia in the morning. It was only right.

"Which way?" she asked.

"Comin'?" he questioned at the same time.

Eddie's lips turned up in a half smile. Then she turned a circle, scanning the area. A thick branch the size of her wrist and four feet long lay not too far away. She went and picked it up, then nodded. "Ready."

Daryl took point, walking assuredly through the trees like he saw a brick path laid out before him. Eddie realized at that moment just how shitty her sense of direction really was. She had a sudden pang for the days of her Smart Phone with GPS, satellite imaging road sites, hell, a fucking map. So she let Daryl lead, leaving that worry to him, while she kept a sharp eye out for the undead, and her brother. She just hoped the two remained separate thoughts.

Faint touches of amber colored the sky when the trees finally started to thin. The shadows had grown longer as they walked. Daryl's ground eating pace had slowed considerably since the start of their march. Now and then he'd pause, sagging heavily on one shoulder against a tree, before pushing himself upright and carrying on. Eddie said nothing. What was the point? They couldn't stop. They couldn't rest, and there was absolutely nothing she could do for him short of offer a shoulder for him to lean on, and considering his reaction the last time she'd tried to help, she opted against the impulse.

The trees continued to thin, until Eddie saw them end completely some ten yards farther ahead. A slatted post and rail fence stood sentry at the edge of a lush field, rolling away into others, with tall trees dotting the landscape. She spotted an old barn to the West side of the property, and a stately two story white farm house beyond that. Her lips parted in awe. It was beautiful, pristine, an oasis in the midst of the carnage of the world.

Her feet had stopped. It took her by surprise. "Wait," she called out, speaking for the first time in more than an hour. Daryl paused, turning to look at her. "I can't go with you."

"Say what?" Daryl retraced his steps.

"I can't go with you," she repeated, not quite believing them herself. "I can't put my feet up and relax when I know I have people out here looking for me. You gotta get stitched up, and by the time I get done answering questions and get any kind of search party organized I'll have lost what light I've got left."

There were no words for that kind of stupidity. Daryl didn't even try. Why the hell had he bothered hoofing her back here then? "You get caught out here in the dark it's your ass," he told her. "They're smart? They found somewhere to hole up already."

"It's my brother," she stressed. "I have to try." Something she couldn't quite read flickered across the hunter's face. Understanding maybe?

Daryl tore his eyes off Eddie to look over his shoulder at the farm. Crazy bitch. "There's a church couple miles that way," he said, pointing off through the trees. "Mighta headed there."

Then he sighed, passing a hand over his mouth. He pulled out his hunting knife and held it out to her. When she didn't take it from his hand he frowned and walked to the nearest tree. "Mark the trunks," he told her, using the blade to cut a shard out of the bark at eye level, revealing the bright white flesh beneath. "So you can find your way back." He held the knife out again. This time she took it. "Expect that back," he said gruffly.

"With Sophia," she assured. Daryl just grunted, then turned and hobbled away.

Eddie watched him go for a minute before turning in the direction Daryl had pointed. She rubbed her thumb over the chink in the tree he'd made with the knife, and she turned the blade over in her hand. She could do this. Walking forward what she guesstimated at ten yards, she scored a second tree. Bread crumbs to follow, only more permanent, she thought grimly. Then a sharp retort filled the air, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge. Gunshot. From the farm. Still brandishing the hunting knife in her fist Eddie whirled, sprinting back through the trees.

The fence barely slowed her as she raced into the open expanse of pasture, heedless of the fact that she carried only a knife. A figure lay on his back in the grass, prone, blood dashed across his forehead. Daryl. Eddie didn't notice the others as she skidded to a stop by the hunter. Three other men dropped out of a run, one with a shaved head, open shirt and a limp at their head. Eddie tensed and crouched, holding the blade out in front of her. Like it would really do her any good, but she hoped it at least looked threatening.

"All right," she said, "someone please want to explain to me what the fuck is goin' on?"

(-)

Chapter 2

To the person that reviewed, thank you so much! I aim to do my best to still make this a Walking Dead with OC's story, rather than an OC's story within the Walking Dead world, if that makes sense. As for making concrete breaks while switching POV, I'm trying, but it's not coming across when I download the document, and when I try to fix it with fanfiction's editor, it's not coming across in the final product. Help? Anyone?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

A/N: It's been a while since I've had this much fun writing anything. Hope you all like it, please let me know what you think, what you liked, or what could be improved.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters except for those that sprang from my own head.

(-)

The man with the shaved head jerked his gun upward, leveling at Eddie's head. "Are you bit?" She stared at him dumbly. They shot him. They shot Daryl. It was the only coherent thought she could muster. She took two big steps around the form of the fallen hunter, placing herself between him and the three men that had run up. Hunting knife vs. pistol. She cursed herself a raging idiot. It seemed that the man withe the shaved head had no patience. He took another aggressive step in her direction, the muscles in his neck cording with anger and tension. "Are you bit?!" he yelled again. Eddie just blinked. The blood roared in her ears. What was she doing?

Then everyone began to yell at once, their voices a melee assaulting her ears.

"Shane!"

"Oh my God, is he dead?"

"Answer me!"

"Everyone calm down."

"Check on Daryl!"

"Who is she?"

Other people were arriving, a blonde woman in a straw cowboy hat, and an older man with a snowy white scruff of beard in a Hawaiian shirt. The blonde's face was ashen. Her voice joined in with the throng. "I thought he was a walker," she moaned. "Is he dead?"

"Enough!" An authoritative voice boomed past the others. A lean man stepped forward, wavy, medium brown hair kept cropped close to his head, the shadow of a few days beard gracing his square jaw. Clear blue eyes trained themselves on Eddie. He held up one hand to her, reaching out with his right to press slowly down on the nose of the gun pointed at her chest. Skin tightened over the shaved man's cheekbones as his teeth ground together, but he acquiesced, holstering his weapon. The lean man kept his shoulders askew to her, almost stooped over as he approached. Treating her like some flighty animal, she thought briefly. "I need you to put the knife away so I can check on Daryl," the man explained calmly.

"You shot him," Eddie said woodenly, still not quite believing it. Energy coursed through her like she was attached to a current, locking her muscles in place, rooting her feet to the ground, her hand to the knife. What the hell had she walked into? These people were HIS group, and they'd shot him. Itchy trigger fingers were one thing, but shit.

"That was a mistake," the man soothed.

Her head snapped in his direction, dark eyes blazing. "Big God damn mistake!" Out of the corner of her eye Eddie saw the blonde woman wince.

He nodded. She wasn't sure he actually agreed, or was just attempting to placate her. "One we can't make right unless you let us take a look at him. So why don't you put the knife away." From behind her Daryl groaned, shifting in the grass. The sound punctuated through the terrified wall her mind had erected around her reflexes. Walkers groaned. Eddie gave a lil start, moving a few paces farther from Daryl, allowing the man with the blue eyes past her to kneel beside the hunter. "It's a graze," he announced. Eddie took a deep breath. Her arms dropped to her sides, though she didn't put the knife away.

There was no mistaking the collective relief that spread through the people around Eddie. The blonde woman still looked shaken, but took comfort in the embrace of the man with the Hawaiian shirt. A burly black man edged past Eddie, keeping a wary eye on her, stooping to sling one of Daryl's arms over his shoulder. He and the blue eyed man stood together, hefting a semi-conscoius Daryl between them. Without another word they started to troop back toward the farmhouse, the blonde woman and Hawaiian shirted man falling in step just behind them. Briefly, Eddie glanced over her shoulder at the woods. At this point, she wasn't sure that a darkening woods full of walkers wouldn't be more inviting.

But before she could give the woods more than a moment's consideration, a hand gave her a forceful shove between her shoulders. She stumbled forward, locking glares with the shaved headed man. "Move," he ordered. Seeing little in the way of choice, Eddie walked after the others, the big man behind her an uncomfortable presence.

As the group neared the house, more people came forward, several from out of the house itself, a few others from a loose ring of a campground, walled by vehicles and an old RV. A young Asian kid trotted out from behind a stand of trees, his hand clasped together with a pretty brunette with short hair. A woman with close cropped gray hair and a beige shawl came out of a tent, a startled cry emanating from her lips when she saw Daryl, a delicate hand flying up to her mouth.

An old man with white hair wearing suspenders trotted down the farmhouse steps, hurrying across the lawn, followed by a young blonde girl. Framed in the doorway of the house, a tall woman with long, dark brown hair held open the screen door. "What's going on here?" the old man asked. "Why did I hear gunshots?"

"Bit of an accident," the blue eyed man explained.

The old man's brow furrowed. His gaze travelled from Daryl to the young woman being herded in with the rest. One he didn't recognize. Another mouth. Ah, but the Lord did find ways to test his convictions. "Get him inside, the room at the top of the stairs," he directed. "We'll have to discuss the situation," his gaze lingered on Eddie, "when we've gotten your man here taken care of." The old man turned and headed back inside, the two men dragging Daryl along behind. The woman with the shawl scurried up behind them, the pretty brunette at her side.

"You hold up," the deep drawl halted Eddie in her tracks. "You're not goin' anywhere til you answer some questions." He turned to the others. "You all go on. I got this." Eddie wasn't sure exactly why this man made her nervous, but he did. Daryl, with his crossbow, violent swearing and attempted throttling, hadn't rattled her nerves nearly as much as the man standing beside her now. Anxiety wound a deep knot in her gut.

"I think I'll stay," the man in the Hawaiian shirt offered. He shifted the rifle he held slung over his shoulder, a subtle movement, but one Eddie noticed the bigger man didn't miss. The shaved headed man scowled.

"That's unnecessary," he bit out.

"I'd like to get to know our guest. Always good to be hospitable," he smiled, though it was flat. He held out his hand. "I'm Dale. Welcome."

"Eddie," she supplied, taking his hand. Such a small thing, but it was the most civilized act she'd participated in in months. Apart from her breaking of bread with Daryl anyway, or really, tearing of squirrel. But she figured handshake trumped squirrel as far as civility.

"Don't go rollin' out the red carpet yet Dale. We don't know anything about her. For all we know, she attacked Daryl."

Eddie was about to tell the guy exactly how absurd she found that statement when, surprisingly, Dale did it for her. "You can't be serious Shane. Take out Daryl? Of all people? She can't be more than 105, 110 pounds."

"Hundred and twenty-five," Eddie corrected absently.

Dale's bushy eyebrows arced skyward. "125? There's no way."

"Really?" Eddie said dryly, holding her hands out. "You want to argue with me about this right now? But no," she turned toward the man Dale had called Shane, "I did not take out your man. Though I did find him unconscious at the bottom of a ravine. I certainly did not stab him with his own arrow, take him back to his own camp, unarmed by the way and then shoot him in the head. Oh wait," she snapped her fingers, "that was you guys."

"You have his knife," Shane said.

"He gave it to me!" she yelled, exasperated.

"Daryl wouldn't give up his knife willingly." Shane crossed his arms over his chest.

"But he did," Eddie seethed. The guys was riding on her very last nerve.

"No let's all just wait a minute," Dale stepped between them, keen to keep the argument in devolving into something physical, something regrettable. Shane's actions as of late had been less than totally balanced. He wouldn't put it past the former deputy to lose control, if only for a moment. "There's a very simple way to handle this." Eddie and Shane both looked to him expectantly. "We wait! Soon as Daryl comes around he can shed light onto all of this."

"You willing to put the group in danger waitin around for Daryl Dixon's say so on moral character?" Shane was disgusted. Dale was a damned fool, an ideologist in a world that had no more room for shades of gray in right and wrong. There was only live or die, your people, and everyone else. This girl counted as everyone else.

"Because I'm a huge threat," Eddie scoffed. "I was Chuck Norris before I decided to get boobs and a face lift." She couldn't help it, dripping sarcasm was her go to mechanism for coping when she felt cornered. Eddie'd never really liked people, even before the end of the world. And this Shane guy? Just rubbed her wrong.

The screen door banged open once more. "Hey you," the pretty brunette called out from the porch. "Why don't you come on in here and get cleaned up a bit? My dad's got some work still to do stitching up Daryl's side." Relieved by the invitation, Eddie leaned cautiously toward the porch steps, keeping on eye on Shane.

"Look Maggie, I don't think that's a good idea." Shane started after Eddie. "It'd be best if..."

"It'd be best if you remember whose property it is that you're a guest on." Maggie drew herself up, her chin stuck out defiantly. "My daddy's farm, his house, his call." The matter closed as far as she was concerned, Maggie beckoned with an arm to the newcomer. "Come on then. We'll get you cleaned up, then if you want, you can join us for some supper."

"Thank you," Eddie said quietly, taking the steps two at a time.

"Maggie..." Shane's voice held a note of warning.

The brunette stared the deputy down, then held out her hand before Eddie crossed the threshold. "I can take Daryl's knife," she offered, "get it back to him for you." Eddie's jaw worked slowly, mulling the offer in her mind. She'd feel better keeping the blade, but it was clearly the price of coming into the house and away from Shane. So she handed it over.

The old house felt warm and inviting, painted in cheery, subtle colors. Framed photos sat on the mantle in the dining room, and more hung in the halls, along with pleasant paintings of pastural America. Eddie never thought she'd be so tickled to see electric lights again. Maggie led her up a set of stairs and down a hallway. One of the doors on their right stood open, and Eddie heard voices inside. She paused in her step, glancing inside. The old man, presumably Maggie's father, sat on a low chair beside a bed. A basin filled with water and blood soaked bandages sat on an end table by his right elbow. The blue eyed man stood at the foot of the bed, one hand over his mouth, the other clutching Sophia's beat up doll close to his side. His gaze rose as they passed, meeting Eddie's for a moment. Then he strode around and shut the door.

Maggie stopped by the next door on the left, twisting the doorknob and pushing it open. "Bathroom's here. Feel free to take a shower, but conserve the water best you can. There's fresh razors under the sink, if you've got a mind for that."

"You have showers?" That was the best news Eddie had heard in a very long time. She'd gotten used to the quick, guarded baths they'd had to take on the road, usually in water no sane person would have deemed 'clean'. And a razor? "You may just have become my new favorite person in the world," Eddie told her, flashing her a smile.

Maggie returned it with a small grin, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. It was moments like this that she was reminded how much better she had it than most folks, how untouched her family still was, even despite the bad. "If you leave your clothes outside I can see about gettin' them washed. I'll leave you somethin' to change into in the room across from the one Daryl's in. It's mine."

Eddie thanked Maggie again and went into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later and Eddie was feeling more human than she had in a long time. She used her fingers to comb through her wet hair, practically giddy with how clean and soft in felt. They had conditioner, freaking conditioner! Wrapping herself in a fluffy blue towel, she cracked the door and peered out into the hall. Satisfied she was alone, she padded back down the hallway toward Maggie's room in her bare feet, where the tall girl had promised fresh clothing would be waiting.

The door to the room that housed Daryl was open again, and she heard a soft voice speaking inside. Eddie stopped. The woman with the shawl stood beside Daryl's bed. He had his back to her, his shoulder hunched, sheets pulled high up his exposed shoulder. As Eddie watched, the woman leaned over, kissing Daryl lightly on the cheek. The hunter flinched, which struck Eddie as odd. "You're every bit as good as them" the shawled woman told him, "every bit."

As the woman stood, Eddie ducked into the room across the hall. She felt herself flush with embarrassment. She shut the door with a soft click. She leaned against the doorframe, her thoughts taking her. She hadn't meant to stand there so long, to eavesdrop on what was obviously a private moment. Her sense of propriety had obviously been skewed by weeks on the road with less than zero privacy, but she still remembered enough to feel guilty. What she had borne witness to had been a moment of such tender consideration. It had felt intimate.

Eddie struggled to recall the last time she'd shared such a touching moment with Ryan. It had been a while for certain. had they ever shared such kindness? She didn't think so. The realization saddened her, but she pushed the feeling aside quickly. Ryan protected her and Kyle. Whatever their relationship had started out as, it had become one of mutual need. Intimacy was something of the old world that no longer applied. Right?

Shaking herself clear of her own thoughts, Eddie stepped deeper into the room, spotting the promised clothes laid out across the top of the bed. She'd left her boots on the first floor at the foot of the stairs. She pulled on a pair of jeans. They were too long, though they fit well about her waist, so Eddie folded the bottoms inward in a makeshift cuff. Maggie had left her a couple of shirts to choose from. First she tried on a black T-shirt, but it was too tight across the shoulders, so she pulled it off and settled for a red tank top instead.

Once dressed, Eddie left, flipping out the light as she entered the hallway. She started when she saw the shawled woman waiting there, leaning against the wall by Daryl's closed door. She held Sophia's doll tightly against her chest.

"You're Sophia's mom." Eddie didn't really mean it as a question. It was written all over the woman's face.

She nodded. "Carol," she introduced herself. "Daryl says you saw my baby girl? Alive?"

"Night before this," Eddie confirmed, jamming her hands into the front pockets of the jeans. "She seemed all right," she went on awkwardly. "Scared, for sure. But all right."

"But then you lost her?" Carol asked. It wasn't an accusation, and Eddie didn't take offense.

"More like they lost me. We got ambushed by some geeks, walkers," she clarified, referencing this groups' own particular definition of the undead. Carol blanched. "No ma'am, please don't take me wrong. Sophia's with my brother Kyle. He picked her up, took to running when I yelled at him to go. I saw him. I just got cut off. Kyle won't let anything happen to her if he can help it."

Carol smiled thinly. "Such a big word anymore isn't it? If." Her head dropped, staring down at the doll in her hands, her thumb absently rubbing its hair. "Thank you for what you did for my little girl. It was hope I was getting short on."

"I didn't do much," Eddie protested lamely. The gratitude was disconcerting. After all, it wasn't like she'd actually brought the kid back.

"Yes, you did." Carol smiled again, and started toward the stairs. "You must be hungry."

By her estimation, approximately half the people gathered for dinner downstairs were welcoming. The other half eyed her nervously, or were quiet, or in Shane's case, watched her with outright distaste. Eddie met everyone else, introductions flying so quickly she knew she'd have to be reminded again later. There was Glenn, the Asian kid she'd seen holding Maggie's hand earlier. Andrea, the blonde who'd shot Daryl, seated beside Dale. Rick was the blue eyed, square jawed man that had talked her down earlier. His wife, the statuesque Lori, sat beside him and though she smiled, it felt less than friendly. T-Dog was the burly black man, who barely acknowledged her presence. Herschel was Maggie's father, seated at the head of the main table. The two blondes, Patricia and Beth, Eddie knew she'd get them confused. Hell, even now she couldn't seem to remember which was which.

After introductions, Herschel held out his hands. The blonde woman next to him placed her palm over his, and reached out beside her to Dale. At the smaller table Maggie did the same, offering a quick smile to Glenn as their fingers intertwined. The rest of the group hesitantly joined in the practice. "Praise be to the Lord," Herschel began. Eddie felt strange. Not that she'd been much of a church goer before, but to see God in this, to be thankful? She didn't understand. Beside her, Carol had her eyes closed, her lips moving silently along with Herschel's words, obviously familiar with the prayer. Eddie felt a pang. What it must be like, to carry such faith.

"Daryl told us what happened," Rick broke the uncomfortable silence that had settled over them for several minutes after the blessing, the scraping of utensils on plates the only sound to be heard. That was true enough, more or less, though in typical Daryl fashion the tracker had recounted the tale in less than a handful of sentences. Vague sentences at that. "He said you and your friends came across a little girl named Sophia."

From across the table Shane let out a derisive snort. Rick glared at the other man, lips pursing with displeasure. This was not how he had wanted to go about procuring information from the woman. He'd wanted to question her alone, wheedle out her motives, the truth. He certainly hadn't wanted to invite her into Herschel's home for supper. But then, that had been Maggie's doing. Correction, Shane's doing when he'd started firing off accusations and questions in singular breaths. None of Herschel's lot were fond of him, not after the incident with Otis, so it probably hadn't taken much for Maggie to step up in the woman's defense. Tact, they really needed to have a discussion on tact.

"We did. My group and I. I was figuring on going to look for them, today, before Daryl got shot." Her voice caught a little in her throat as she thought of Kyle, probably beside himself with worry, while she sat around a dining room having a meal, showered, clean... safe. Suddenly she wasn't very hungry anymore, and she pushed the plate of chicken away from her. "I was figuring on going back out to look for them tomorrow, first thing, if maybe you lot could spare a weapon."

Rick's face hardened. "I'm sorry, but we can't do that. We need to conserve what we have."

Eddie was starting to feel desperate. She couldn't leave them out there, but now she couldn't leave? Venturing out without a means of defense was as good as suicide. What had she done? "I don't belong here," she muttered.

Shane snorted again. Rick's blue yes turned icy. "Shane..." he warned.

"What Rick? That's the first bit a truth that's come outta that girl's mouth since the word 'go'." He jabbed a finger in Eddie's direction. "She don't belong here, and we're sittin around makin' nice like she'd an old family friend.

"Daryl said..."

"Daryl's beat to shit," Shane interrupted. "Fuckin' bruised, tore up, addled in the brain and it's not like he was a MENSA candidate in the first place." At the head of the table, Herschel's face started to turn red, and he rung his napkin between his hands. "How do we know she didn't make up some bullshit story about findin' Sophia huh? Tellin' Daryl what he wanted to hear."

Sitting beside Eddie, Carol's face twisted in anguish. Shane was being cruel, needlessly so, to make a point. The energy level in the room had spiked, and not in the good way. "Daryl may not be a scholar," Carol said suddenly, " but he knows how to read people. He believes her, than so do I."

"Aww Carol, I'm sorry but you need to wake up. Daryl's out there chasin' ghosts and it dam near got him killed today." Everyone stopped eating.

"Shane that's enough," Rick barked.

"Hell Rick, you're just as twisted in the head over this as they are. That lil girl is gone, and you know it. You gotta stop riskin all our lives for this. It ain't worth it!" The room fell into an uneasy silence. All eyes settled on Sophia's mother, who had gone rigid, staring blankly forward.

"Ain't worth it?" Carol echoed in a small voice, loud as a gunshot in the dead air.

Shane fell silent, the fury seeping from his face as quickly as it had come. His chin dropped to his chest. Contrition made him look like a different man, a broken man. His shoulders slumped forward and he ran a hand up from his chin over his shaved head. "Carol I didn't mean that."

"My baby girl ain't worth it?" Tears shone in her eyes, which she turned upon the former Sheriff's Deputy. "If she were yours Shane, you wouldn't be sayin' that. You'd be movin' heaven and earth, just for a chance." The chair scraping along the wood floor sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "Excuse me. I'm not very hungry." No one moved to stop the slight woman as she left the room, and they all heard the screen door swing shut behind her.

Rick's heart went out to the woman. How he'd felt, knowing he might lose Carl. There was no explaining that feeling of helplessness to someone who wasn't a parent. His eyes travelled over every other face in the room, each now pensive and dejected. Then his eyes found Shane's. Tact indeed.

(-)

Chapter 3

The first part of this came really easy to me, but the dinner scene was actually really hard to write. I went over 2 or 3 different scenarios in my head. I feel like Shane really started losing it after Otis, but I didn't want him instantly frothing at the mouth either. I'm not sure why, but I feel like a kinship is gonna grow between Eddie and Maggie, it felt very natural for her to invite Eddie in at that juncture. I also really wasn't sure how to end it. One version had a pretty classic Dixon look at the others, but the rest of the characterization to make that work didn't feel right, so... anyway.

If anyone seems terribly out of character please let me know. In the next few chapters I'm gonna hopefully wrap up Season 2, where this story is going to diverge from the show in a few ways and become more of an AU, or maybe just alternate season.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

A/N: Thank you everyone that has reviewed, favorited or followed this story! I am a feedback craver so it really helps me when you guys let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I don't own the ones you've seen on TV.

(-)

Sunlight glinted of the drops of dew that clung to the emerald glass. Eddie trudged through without noticing, cutting a swath of rich green behind her, as the moisture wicked off the grass onto the bottoms of her jeans. It was early, the sun yet to clear the tops of the trees to the East. The night had been pleasantly warm, her spot in the grass under a tree between the house and Rick's group's camp comfortable enough, as far as her sleeping arrangements as late had been, but rest didn't come. Her own thoughts, and the disquieting presence of Shane only a few yards away had kept her brain too occupied for sleep.

She'd heard the horse before she saw it, the familiar hollow thud of hooves upon grass, approaching quickly from the woods. A riderless chestnut horse, stirrups flapping wildly from its western saddle, galloped past the tree she'd been propped against, disappearing in the darkness of a small shed row set on the top of a hillock. Interested, and sick of the mire of her own troubles, she'd risen to follow it.

She found the chestnut in the stable aisle, her head stuck over the bottom of a dutch door of another stall. The buckskin inside had his ears pricked, and he nickered happily, using his top lip groom the mare's neck. "Hey girl," Eddie announced herself quietly from the barn door. The chestnut started, pulling back quickly into the aisle. She eyed Eddie warily, nostrils flaring with a snort, her ears sweeping forward and back. "Easy now," Eddie crooned. She stepped slowly forward, eyeing the reins that dangled from the mare's bit, one broken in half.

The mare flipped her head agitatedly, the whites showing at the corners of her eyes. Even in the dim light, Eddie could see something dark splashed on the mare's white sock. The smell told her what she needed to know. "Ran into something dead out there did you?" she asked, knowing it wasn't really what she said that mattered, only the low, even keel of her voice. "Hope you smashed it good girl." The mare whuffed out a breath as Eddie kept up her murmuring, edging closer one careful step after another, until she was close enough to touch her. She reached out, her fingers finding the mare's silky shoulder. With each stroke of her hand the horse relaxed more, finally allowing Eddie to take hold of her reins and lead her to a set of cross ties.

Methodically, she began to strip the mare's tack. It soothed Eddie's frazzled nerves, letting herself take comfort in the familiar, nearly reflexive pattern of actions. She threw the heavy saddle onto a stand and picked up a brush. Aside from some lingering, half dried walker gore, the mare seemed none the worse for wear.

"You found Nellie." Eddie glanced up over the mare's withers. Maggie stood at the stable entrance, a wide, relieved smile on her face.

"Nah, she found her own way home. Just figured I'd make her more comfortable. Nellie huh?" she scratched the mare beneath her mane, and the horse bobbed her head appreciatively.

"Nervous Nellie," Maggie clarified, walking confidently down the stable aisle to her horse. The mare butted Maggie's stomach with her nose. "Daryl would have been better of takin' ole Buck here," she walked over to the buckskin gelding, scratching his forehead. She shrugged, "had he bothered to ask."

"He pretty bombproof?" Eddie tossed the brush back into the grooming tote, and retrieved a lead from the wall, snapping it to the mare's halter.

"Unflappable," Maggie nodded. "He was my high school rodeo barrel horse."

Eddie led Nellie past the duo into the next stall, where she turned the mare loose. "She fast too?" she questioned.

"Very, but spooky as all get out. Nellie's only seven. She was supposed to be Beth's barrel horse, but she's too hot for her. I broke her summer after my senior year." Maggie eyed the other woman. "You ride?"

Eddie leaned her forearms over the stall door and nodded. "Jumpers mostly, back home."

"And where's home?" Maggie gave Buck one more pat before moving across the aisle, breaking open a bale of hay with the knife she now kept on her at all times.

"Colorado," Eddie took three flakes from Maggie, tossing them in Buck's manger. "I took the job as the Equestrian Team coach at the Savannah College of Art Design last fall. It was a good gig, so I packed up and moved out here. Kinda wish I'd stayed now. Colorado's got a lot more open nothing than here, lots of guns, and my family. Kyle was visiting me here when everything went to shit."

"You don't know what happened to them?" Maggie's heart went out to the other woman. If she didn't know what had become of Beth, or her father? She didn't know if she'd have been able to handle it.

Eddie shook her head. "No. Selfishly, I'm kinda glad Kyle was here. I'd been working so much, I hadn't gotten to know a lot of people. Just the girls on the team, and we weren't friends or anything. I was closer to them," she nodded with her chin to Nellie and Buck. Eddie felt her chest constrict painfully. "Humans have seen history from the back of a horse." She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. "They fought for us, died in our wars." The sound, by God the sound had been so horrific. Eddie straightened and looked Maggie in the eye. "And I left them all. Twenty of them locked in stalls, and I couldn't get to them." She needed air. She hurried past Maggie and stepped into the daylight, grabbing her knees with her hands.

The brunette came out, a soft touch on Eddie's shoulders. "You couldn't have helped it. People had to come first."

"People did this," Eddie bit out. "We've been wiping ourselves out since history started. And I don't know if this is nature's way of population control, or divine retribution, or some science experiment gone terribly wrong. And I couldn't have helped my family, but you didn't see it, people doing horrible things to each other to get out of Savannah while they could. They just had me, and I failed them." Maggie got the distinct impression the subject matter of Eddie's rambling had just changed.

Tears spilled out, along with words she'd been thinking all night, but hadn't dared give a voice. "And now I'm failing again, leaving my baby brother out there, and I can't do anything to help him cuz I got caught up worryin' about some red neck I don't even know. And I have no weapon to go out there with cuz I gave it up like an idiot! And I can't go out there with nothing, because I'm afraid, afraid of what might happen, just like at the school, because I don't want to die!" Coward, she screamed at herself. Selfish. Leave. The command had been marching around all night in her head, but her feet wouldn't obey.

Something landed in the grass next to her foot. Eddie struggled to control her panic attack induced breathing and focus. The hilt of a hunting blade stuck out of a black sheath. Daryl's knife. She looked over sharply to Maggie, who shrugged. "You know, Buck's gettin' on in years, but he's still got a pretty good turn of foot. And he gets out sometimes, playin with the latch on his door. Mostly when he's bored. Might be good if I took him out for a ride later." Maggie started to wander away. "He could use a ride."

oooOOOooo

Carol was just gathering the last of the breakfast dishes when she saw him, hunched up and hobbling toward the stable. She shook her head ruefully. Man had a skull thicker than plate iron sometimes. Not that she didn't appreciate his tenacity. Heck, she wished a few of the other group members felt as invested in finding Sophia, but she wasn't willing to let him hurt himself to do it either. Wiping her hands on her pants, Carol headed after him.

She found Daryl with the same chestnut mare he'd taken out the day before. He had a pad over her back, but it wasn't hard to see he struggled with the saddle. "What are you doing?" she queried. "You ain't even been healin' up twelve hours Daryl, you can't do this."

The tracker held the saddle over his right hip, and the strain had him broken out in a sweat. The stitches stretched and pulled every time he moved, and his head hurt like the worst hangover he'd ever had, only without any of the fun of the night before. "Gotta get after yer girl," he said. "Leave it to dumb and dumber out there and another day'll be gone." Truth of it was, he couldn't stay in bed anymore, couldn't let himself be coddled. It'd be too much like Merle being right. He was getting soft, weak. And the best way to avoid a hundred questions from everyone in camp? Don't be in camp.

He gathered himself, sucking in deep breaths as he prepared to fling the saddle over the mare's back. The touch on his bare forearm broke his concentration, and he wheeled, his eyes narrowing at Carol, standing far too close for the size of his personal space bubble. He let the saddle lean up against his shin, like some small divider between them. "Let the others go," she implored softly. "You've done enough. No one thinks ya haven't, least of all me. I don't want to lose you too."

"What the hell you talkin' about losin' for? You ain't lost nothin' but one ass hat of a husband. It ain't right, you talkin' like that bout someone ain't gone." He didn't touch the part she'd said about him. The words left his brain running too fast to process it, and it made his skin crawl besides. "Crazy bitch," he muttered, turning again so his back was to Carol. He stooped, glad she couldn't see the wince on his face as he stooped to lift the saddle again. His teeth ground into his lip as he hoisted it over the mare.

"But what if Shane's right? What if she is gone, and I'm just putting the group in danger, sending you and Rick and Shane out? We need you here." Something other than pragmatism colored her words, but Daryl didn't care to think on it.

"Shane ain't right," he huffed, quickly tiring of the overly concerned, mother hen attitude Carol had sprung up out of nowhere. "Don't go listenin' every jackass that brays." He tugged a little too forcefully on the latigo, and Nellie tossed her head, lifting a rear hoof in warning.

At the end of the stable row, a stall door swung open into the aisle. Eddie stepped through, leading Buck. She kept her eyes low, feeling sheepish, seeing how it was the second time she'd eavesdropped on the two of them. She hadn't even noticed them at first. Saddling Buck, another wave of panic had struck, and by the time she'd calmed herself down the pair was mid conversation. But she couldn't have stayed in the stall any longer, her resolve to take the horse and go crumbling with every passing second. Moving, doing. It was the only thing that had kept her mind from settling on the fear. She'd been moving since Savannah, staying one step in front of her nightmares, but last night they had caught her. So she needed to move again, to outdistance them.

"What the hell you think you're doin?" Daryl barked when he saw her.

"Good morning to you too Daryl," Eddie replied, ducking under the cross ties. "Oh, coming to find you when I heard the gunshot? You're welcome. No trouble at all."

"What, you want a thank you? Didn't ask you to follow me." He finished bridling Nellie and led the mare out behind them. "Not then and not now."

Carol hid a ghost of a smile behind her hand. She still had a bewildering little knot in the pit of her stomach, as much of a shock to her as the cold fear she'd felt seeing Daryl hanging limp between Rick and T-Dog. But at least this way he wasn't going to be alone. "Stay safe, the both of you," she implored.

"Both?" Daryl grunted.

"Well, I'm going after Kyle and Ryan. You're going after Sophia. They're all together. Would you like a diagram of how this works out?" Eddie asked dryly as she swung easily into the saddle. The moment she settled her seat she sighed. It felt like coming home. She leaned over to stroke Buck's neck, her fingers brushing over the baseball bat Maggie had fashioned a carrier for on the saddle. That didn't hurt either.

"No diagram. A gag maybe." Daryl hauled himself up onto Nellie, his broken flesh protesting vehemently. The mare sidestepped, tugging again at his wound and he couldn't help but grimace. Oh yeah, this was gonna be a long day.

"Oh, he thinks he's funny," Eddie teased. The deep scowl on the tracker's face stopped her from making another jibe. Pain had turned the man's face an almost eerily familiar shade of gray. This was gonna be a long day. She turned Buck and headed out across the meadow toward the forest.

Daryl caught Carol's eyes. He looked for a moment like he wanted to say something, but he didn't, instead giving her a curt nod before setting off after Eddie and Buck. Carol's lips pressed thin. He couldn't hide the pain, not all of it. It wasn't like Daryl to be reckless, not when it came to his own survival. But that's exactly what he was doing, for Sophia, a child she'd barely allowed him to exchange two words with. She didn't understand, and that vexed her most of all.

(-)

Glenn kept one eye on the farmhouse as he walked, hands shoved in his pockets. They'd finished breakfast in camp, Rick and Lori taking theirs in the house with Carl. T-Dog was on watch. Dale and Andrea were immersed in deep discussion in the RV and Shane had gone in search of Rick. They were going out to look for Sophia again, following some search grid Rick had laid out, but for the moment he was alone. And Maggie would be up finishing her morning chores. He didn't see her at the stable, or near the chicken pens, so he let his feet guide him toward the barn.

It was an old structure, built who knew how long ago, presumably by someone in Herschel's family. The wide, thick planks of wood had long ago turned gray. But it was solid for sure, old barns were like that. Glenn approached the towering front doors, intending to just poke his head inside and look for Maggie. Then the thought came to him, he'd never had sex in a barn before, and an impish grin crossed his lips. He was only a couple yards away when he saw the thick chain and heavy padlock, which he'd never noticed before. It struck him as slightly odd, but then, Herschel's family didn't seem to have much use for the barn. The cattle were all out in pastures, the chickens had their own set of coops, and the horses their own stable.

Maybe Herschel used the barn for storage, like for big farm implements. Or, a new thought excited Glenn almost as much as the thought of he and Maggie having a roll in the hay, maybe Herschel was some kind of collector, classic cars or something. Lured now by the possibility of some common ground with Herschel, something aside from Maggie, Glenn made his way around the side of the building. At the very least, if they did share some common interest, maybe he could get Herschel to stop calling him 'that Asian boy'. For the first time in a very long time, Glenn found himself wanting someone's approval, needing it. It would be nice to be able to be with Maggie in the open, hold her hand at least. Glenn's feet stopped and he let himself smile. End of the world, and he was worried about holding a girl's hand.

The small side door was padlocked and chained as well. Not to be deterred, Glenn's eyes travelled upward, to the half open hay loft door. An easy enough climb, by his standards anyway. Glenn clambered up the small three rail fence, then shimmied his way up a narrow ladder to the hay loft's overhanging lip. He had to stoop to get through the small, square door. Immediately the smells of mildew, dirt and old hay hit his nose. He shuffled through a few piles of limp straw. Then he heard something moving below him. Animals? Why would Herschel chain the doors for that?

It was the sound, the raspy, wet, putrid non breathing of things trying to use lungs drowning in their own decomposing flesh. It raised the hair on his arms. There was no mistaking that sound, he'd heard it too many times, up close and personal. But even knowing, he still had to see. Glenn stepped to the edge of the loft, and peered over into the barn's open center. The walkers milling below stopped, their cloudy, yellowing eyes turning up to him. The wet sound of their breathing became a growl, ferocious, hungry. And Glenn flew back, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave. Back to the square door and outside. Even the muggy Georgia air felt cool and relieving against his skin. Though his hands were still shaking, Glenn managed to get back down the ladder and onto solid ground. He stayed there for a second, white knuckles gripping the sides of the ladder as he fought to make sense out of what he'd seen.

"I wish you hadn't seen that," Maggie's voice came softly from behind him. He turned, lifting his hat to wipe sweat from his brow before tugging back down on the brim. Maggie stood facing him, her shoulders slumped forward, brown eyes filling with tears.

A thousand questions sped through his brain. The foremost being, why? Then the rest of it settled in, the sense of loss that accompanied a betrayal. She had kept this from him. When he'd felt like he was ready to give in to what he'd felt, to accept that he'd found someone amidst the craziness, he found she'd been keeping him at arm's length all along. Glenn shook his head, disheartenment laying quietly over his shoulders like a blanket. "Yeah, me too."

(-)

Chapter 4

I realize this chapter didn't move things quite as forward as I was expecting, since it ended up being more about characterization than plot. Also unexpected, I hadn't originally planned for much bonding between Maggie and Eddie, my intent had been for Andrea and Eddie to bond, since in my head those two are closer in age, but this wound up feeling pretty organic to write.

Maggie, in my head, is forever sealed in my head as that badass chic on the horse in the woods with the bat, and I love that Maggie. I also wanted to delve a little deeper into how her relationship with Glenn could have been affected by the barn walker discovery. I kind of feel like it was glossed over a bit in the show.

Anyway, I will finish my ramblings by thanking you all for reading along and for favoriting or following this, and to encourage to give feedback, I do love it so.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

A/N: As a note to everyone reading, you may want to go back and check out chapter 4 again. Somehow fanfiction erased half the chapter when I was editing it and I didn't notice until a couple days later. It kinda started establishing a Maggie/Eddie friendship.

Disclaimer: I own none of the ones you see on TV.

(-)

"What do you mean she's gone? You just let her leave?"

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest, her lower jaw jutted out in defiant challenge of the currently red faced man bellowing at her. In another place and time, watching Shane's body stiffen with rage, his face beginning to go from red to mauve, quickly on its way to purple, would have intimidated her, but not now. Not in the daylight, standing just past the edges of shadows projected from her family home's front porch. And not in this world, not with all that had happened.

"Well last I recollected, she wasn't a prisoner," Maggie smart mouthed back, feeling a flush rising in her own neck. She didn't want to let herself be baited, but between Eddie's panic attack, Glenn's snooping and now Shane's snarling, Maggie had had about enough of this particular day, and it wasn't even close to noon yet. After Glenn's discovery of the barn's inhabitants, he'd brushed off Maggie's attempts to explain, saying he needed time to think. So Maggie had made a beeline for the house. If Glenn said anything, her father needed to be ready for the backlash. That was when she'd run into Shane, on the hunt for Eddie. Telling him she'd loaned the other woman a horse, hadn't sat too well.

"She went after her brother, Shane."

"Are you really that naive?" Shane questioned, his face twisting into something ugly. "She could have been lying about any of it, all of it! What if she really has a group? She knows where we are, she could bring more people back here. Letting her free to go back puts the whole farm at risk!"

"Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions just a little?" Her voice rose, and Maggie noticed people coming out of the woodwork to watch them, wide eyed. Andrea and Dale had descended off the roof of the RV. Carol, her shawl wrapped around her narrow shoulders, looked concerned as she approached. "And aren't we stronger together? More people to keep us safe, watch each other's backs, isn't that what you and Rick have been tellin my daddy?"

"That's different. They ain't part of the group. They ain't one of us." Shane snarled.

Maggie's head tilted as she regarded Shane cooly. "Well aren't we lucky you all decided to consider my family 'one of you.' I'd hate to have seen the consequences had you decided we weren't worthy."

"Ah horse shit, don't go trying to turn this around on me! You screwed up. She's a threat and you just let her go on her merry way."

Behind them, the screen door banged open. Rick, Herschel and Lori came out of the house, Rick at their head. "Hey, hey, hey!" Rick's boots clunked heavily on the porch steps as he hastened down them. The sheriff's features were drawn, skin drawn too tight over his cheeks, and his eyes were fretful. "What in hell is goin on out here. Carl's trying to sleep." The words were spoken to both of them, but they were directed at Shane. The man was becoming a hot head, the demands of the life they now led stretching his nerves paper thin. It made him volatile. Rick just hoped it didn't make him dangerous.

"Eddie's gone," Shane barked. "Maggie here was even kind enough to give her a horse, and Daryl's knife back."

As Rick's head snapped in her direction, Maggie dropped her chin, the fight leeching out of her quicker than it had come on. Rick sighed, a weary exhalation of breath that instantly made her feel guilty. "She was worried about her brother," she said quietly. "If it were Beth..." Maggie shook her head, "I couldn't stop her."

Rick put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I get that Maggie. You and I both know, especially now, how important family really is. But fact is, Shane's right, we don't know anything really about her, other than what she's said. And we all have to keep each other safe, and nowadays that means being more cautious with outsiders. Letting her leave, it was a decision we should have made together, all of us. And even if she's on the up and up, lettin her go out there alone, is just askin for trouble."

"She's not alone," Carol volunteered suddenly, stepping closer. "Daryl took the other horse and went with her." Now all eyes swept to her. "Daryl will bring her back," she said confidently. "He'll bring my Sophia back."

Shane threw up his hands. "Oh shit, well that's just perfect!" Then he stalked off, brushing angrily past Andrea and Dale as he went.

Herschel had come down the stairs as well, taking position at Maggie's shoulder. "And you didn't try to stop him? I just stitched that boy up yesterday. He lost a lot of blood."

Rick's mouth quirked. He remembered how intent Daryl had been on his search for Merle, the type of bull headed single mindedness that would have kept the tracker hunting Atlanta for days on his own, had Merle not so obviously stolen their box truck. It was the same now. He had taken the search for Sophia as a cause of his own, for reasons to which only Daryl was privy. And she was close. He was a dog with a bone. "To be fair Herschel, I doubt she could have stopped him if she tried."

"He'll bring them all back," Carol reiterated, nodding to herself, as if the strength of her convictions could speed him along the way.

OoOoOoOoOo

While everyone back at the farm was up in arms, Daryl was seriously reconsidering his decision to ride. He should have opted for walking. Hell, he should have opted for parking his happy ass in his tent and staying there. As it was, the gentle sway of Nellie's walk stretched his newly sutured skin with each step. And when the mare spooked, which she did often, the sudden hops sideways didn't just stretch his skin, it yanked aggressively against the stitches, making the chords on his neck stand out as he gritted his teeth against the pain. He thought once or twice about dismounting and walking, under the guise of searching for tracks, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to convince himself to get back on. So he kept his ass planted firmly in the saddle, resolute and stubborn.

Daryl also ignored the poorly hidden glances Eddie kept shooting his way. "I'm fine," he finally snapped. "Don't need no damed pitying looks from you every twenty seconds."

Eddie looked unrepentant. "It's not pity, it's concern," she replied calmly.

"Same difference," he shot back. He used his left hand to wipe sweat from his face. The bandage on his head was soaked through with it. His head had begun to throb like a marching band drum line some time ago.

Eddie shrugged, "Sure." She looked away from him then, but Daryl caught her glancing over again in less than a minute. He suppressed a growl.

The two of them rode side by side through the trees, the mottled morning light creating a moving patchwork over the horses hides. It was an Indian Summer kind of day, the cool dampness of the early morning giving way to sultry Georgian heat that even the shade of the forest couldn't abate. Their clothes hung limply on their bodies, shellacked to their skin with their own sweat. Loose tendrils of Eddie's hair had fallen from her pony tail and stuck to the back of her neck. The air was heavy, and smelled of dirt and decomposing vegetation.

"How much farther to this church?" Eddie queried.

Daryl grunted and pointed with a sharp thrust of his chin. "There."

Ahead of them the trees thinned, then opened into a small clearing. A short, square, building rose up out of the clearing's center. Its white painted walls peeled in places. Broad steps ran down from a set of tall, molded wood doors, which were firmly shut. Eddie opened her mouth to call out, but a vehement shake of Daryl's head stopped her. "You start pullin stupid shit like that and I'll ditch your ass," he told her.

They rode up to the church, stopping the horses next to the stair railing. Daryl purposefully kept Nellie on Buck's left, so Eddie couldn't see his face when he dismounted. He'd had all the 'concern' he could take for a day. Still, he leaned a little on Nellie's shoulder when he hit the ground, his right arm snaking around to his side. He only straightened when he heard Eddie get closer, walking around the horses. He swung his crossbow around, taking a moment to set the bolt into the stock. Eddie held Maggie's baseball bat in her right hand.

"Stay behind me," he ordered quietly as they began their ascent to the double doors. Eddie nodded silently, happy to acquiesce. Daryl raised the crossbow, the discomfort that had so lined his face during the ride melting away into steely concentration. At the top of the steps he nodded to the doors. Eddie understood, clasping the door handle firmly and pulling it wide. Daryl's steps as he entered the church were measured, quick and careful. He first checked the corners of the room, sweeping the crossbow from left to right, before proceeding toward the front down the rows of pews, checking the floor of each.

They moved like this till they reached the dais, Eddie following closely on Daryl's heels. The large, towering statue of Jesus on the cross stood just as Daryl remembered it from the first time he'd been inside, when Carol had been praying for her daughter's safe return. Part of him thought it would be fitting if they found her here, but the place was empty. He lowered the bow. Then Eddie brushed past him, hopping up onto the altar. She pulled something off the cross, clutching it close to her chest, a wide smile lighting her face.

"They were here!" she announced gleefully. "I think they're still here." Daryl peered at her quizzically. Still grinning, she held up a rumpled, threadbare green T shirt. "It's Kyle's shirt," she explained. "He's only got the two, and he likes to air out the spare between wears." Daryl could help but glance down at his own soiled clothing. It wasn't something he thought on overly much, couldn't see his way to it, not when there were so may other, pressing concerns. Eddie caught his expression, and she shrugged. "He's a little fastidious."

"Fasti-what?"

"He's kind of a clean freak."

"They might not still be here ya know. He mighta just left it."

"He loves this stupid shirt."

Outside, the horses moved restlessly. Daryl and Eddie exchanged a quick glance. From their position, they could see out across the clearing. It was empty, and seemed quiet. Daryl brought his crossbow to bear, and went on cat's feet back toward the door, Eddie close behind, her heart hammering. Daryl paused at the doorway, feeling Eddie's anxious breath hot on his neck and ignoring it. He let his eyes adjust to the brighter light outside, then proceeded forward.

As Daryl took his first step into the daylight, a large figure launched himself at the tracker with a howl. Something was held in his fist, and he brought it down toward Daryl's head. With a swift movement, Daryl managed to deflect the blow with his bow, but the figure kept coming. He slammed bodily into Daryl, thrusting him back past the threshold of the church.

The force of the two grappling men hit Eddie, carrying her off her feet. She fell hard on her back, air rushing out of her lungs. Daryl scrambled to keep his footing, but caught Eddie in the gut with his heel and went down on top of her, dragging the other man with him. The three were a pile of twisted arms and legs. The object the third man had been holding flew out of his hands and went skittering over the floorboards. Eddie curled herself into a ball, shielding her head with her arms as best she could as the two men wrestled, and finally rolled off of her.

Eddie dragged herself to her knees. Ryan. She recognized the back of his head, and the faded button down shirt he'd been wearing the last time she'd seen him. He and Daryl fought for control of the crossbow, one of the pews scraping across the wood floor as they hit it. And then Ryan, with several inches and at least 40 pounds on Daryl, managed to pin the tracker, striking him viciously in the face. Eddie gathered herself and flung herself upon Ryan's back. Fistfuls of Ryan's shirt in her hands, Eddie planted her feet and heaved herself backwards, ripping Ryan away from Daryl. "Enough!"

Eddie struck the ground on her left side, Ryan landing next to her. He was flailing, fighting like a wild animal that had been cornered. He stilled for a moment, and she realized he had sighted the pistol that he'd dropped beneath the pew behind them. "Ryan no!" she grunted, desperately trying to keep a hold of him. His elbow struck her nose, and instantly she saw stars, and released him. Ryan scrambled for the gun.

His fingers closed on the pistol and he jumped to his feet, leveling the weapon. But Daryl was already up. He had the crossbow pointed between the other man's eyes. His face was gray with pain and clammy with sweat, and blood trickled down his face from a split above his let eyebrow, but the crossbow was unwavering. "Drop it," he growled.

OoOoOoOoOo

Lori found Glenn in his tent. The flap was open, and the young man lay quietly on his back, hands clasped behind his head, staring vacantly at the roof. She almost hated to disturb him, but what she needed couldn't wait. If she had to wait another day without knowing... she couldn't take not knowing. The uncertainty was eating her up inside, tying her stomach in knots. And that was without the consideration of the men involved. Rick. Shane. Shane and Rick, Rick and Shane. She could see what it was doing to them, feel how her absence grated on Shane's nerves. She and Carl, protecting the camp, that purpose had kept him grounded. And when Rick came back it all went away.

Lori glanced around furtively before crouching down at the tent entrance. The young man didn't seem to notice. "Hey Glenn," she spoke softly, reaching out to touch his arm. He started a little, sitting up quickly.

"You're going on a run into town later?" she asked.

"That's the plan," he confirmed. He needed to get out of camp, needed something to do, other than just endlessly think. He'd have asked Maggie to go with him, but the earlier revelation had left him doubting. What else could she be keeping from him?

Fishing a couple scraps of paper out of her front jeans pocket and handed the larger of the two sheets to Glenn. "That's a list of what we need," she told him, "and a list of antibiotics and medical supplies Herschel wants on hand." Glenn unfolded the paper and scanned through it. "And this," Lori held out the second paper, clenched tightly between her fingers, "is of a personal nature. So if we could keep this very discreet, I would appreciate it."

His first impulse was to just say no. He'd had enough of secrets. He wasn't any good at them anyway. The weighed on him, dragged him down like an anchor. But there was something desperate in her face, pleading and frightened. His curiosity got the better of him and he took the paper. When he opened it, his eyes bulged in his head.

"Glenn..."

"Shit Lori you're... Does Rick know?"

"At this point I don't even know," she answered quickly. "So just, discreet, please?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." The brunette offered him a thin smile of thanks, then rose up out of her crouch and hurriedly walked away. Glenn sat a moment longer, staring at the paper in his hands. He really hated secrets.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Ryan's eyes were wild, flicking quickly from Daryl to the door and back. Eddie stood slowly, wiping tears from her eyes. "Ryan," she said his name again. "Ryan listen to him." For the first time the big man took a good look at Eddie, and the panic in his eyes quieted.

"Eddie?" he breathed, as though just noticing she was there. Though, considering the way he'd been fighting, it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. That was gonna bruise for sure. "Yeah, you jackass. Now, want to put that away?"

"This deusch your boyfriend?" Daryl asked, looking over the sight of his crossbow, his expression stormy. Lips thin, Eddie nodded. "Yeah, been a real shame to not find this guy."

Ryan's tongue flicked out over his lower lip, a faint scowl appearing on his face. He glanced once more at Daryl before letting the nose of the pistol drop. "Sorry man," he said lamely, "I didn't know who you were."

Daryl lowered the crossbow. "You had to know I wasn't a dead guy," Daryl grunted. "With the horse and all." He shouldered the weapon and brushed past Ryan toward the door. Daryl peered out of the door across the clearing and turned back to Ryan. "So where's Sophia?"

"Who?"

"The kid Ryan. And Kyle for that matter." Eddie felt the familiar knot of anxiety return. Where were they? They should have been with him. The three had been together when she'd gotten separated from them. What if something had happened? What if...

The distance returned to Ryan's face, a vacant glaze over his eyes. "They were right behind me."

Panic surged through Eddie, and beside her she heard Daryl swear. She approached Ryan slowly, lifting her hands to his cheeks, making him look her in the eyes. "What do you mean? Where are they?"

Ryan merely shook his head, paling. "There were too many. We just ran." Eddie felt her knees go weak. No, no, no, no...

"Hey." Daryl called over his shoulder, trotting down the stairs. The world had opened up to swallow her, and Daryl's voice was like an echo, faint and fading. Still, she forced herself to climb back up out of the abyss and back into awareness. She tore her eyes away from Ryan. From out of the trees, and over Daryl's right shoulder, Eddie saw a figure appear. Her heart started beating once more, and the buzzing in her ears faded blissfully away. Her smile hurt her face as she turned away from Ryan, tore down the steps, and sprinted past Daryl.

Kyle, his T-shirt plastered to his chest and darkened by sweat, let the little girl out of his arms. His face broke into a wide smile that matched his sister's, and he swooped her off the ground even as she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Kyle clung to her for a moment, before pulling away. "Come on," he said, reaching out to grasp Sophia's hand.

"Hey kid," Daryl greeted, having stopped in his tracks upon seeing Eddie embrace the other man, and Sophia alive and well.

Sophia clung closer to Kyle, half hiding her face behind his arm. He couldn't really blame her. After all, it's not like he'd ever gone out of his way to be 'nice' to the kid. "Mr. Daryl," she said quietly.

Kyle glanced down at the young girl and smiled reassuringly. "He with you honey?"

"With my momma," she confirmed.

Kyle gave the tracker an appraising once over, his smile turning lascivious. "Well then, isn't your momma one lucky woman?" Daryl blanched and Eddie snorted. Kyle grinned at his sister. "You've got stories you need to share with rest of us, I can tell. But they'll have to wait in the telling. We hoofed it away from like 15 or 20 geeks not too far back, but they'll still be headed this way." Instantly, Daryl's discomfort dissolved as his gaze jerked up to scan the tree line. Priorities, after all.

"Speaking of hoofing it," Eddie pointed at the two horses tied to the church steps.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "End of the world, you would find a horse to cart your happy ass around, wouldn't you?."

"Not to intrude on this after school special family moment," Daryl cut in, "but if we got a herd comin we need to get." He turned his attention to the little girl, thinking suddenly of the white flowers soaking up water in a beer bottle he'd left with Sophia's mother. Cherokee Rose, comin home. "Your momma's been prayin on you whole bunch," he said. Sophia didn't answer him directly, but her face split into a smile, and she ventured out from behind Kyle's arm.

The ride away from the tiny church was, if possible, even less comfortable than the ride in. The bugs had come out in full force, dive bombing and attacking each member of the little party in turn, but Daryl more than most. The stitches in his side had split during his tussle with Ryan, and new blood seeped through his shirt, perfect bait for the mosquitos and biting flies. Daryl also had to contend with his two passengers, Sophia in his lap, and Kyle, whom the little girl hadn't wanted to leave, pressed uncomfortably close against his back.

Eddie and Ryan rode together on Nellie. Mutual unspoken agreement had kept the tracker and Eddie's boyfriend on separate animals. Daryl didn't trouble to hide his distaste for the bigger man, and Ryan kept almost possessively close to Eddie when he finally regained his composure and came out of the church.

The first of the walkers appeared out of the trees when Kyle was just handing Sophia up into Daryl's arms. Buck eyed the ambling creatures with cautious awareness, while Nellie snorted and danced in place. Ryan clutched desperately to the saddle horn while Eddie guided the mare from behind him, keeping her moving in small circles until Kyle could clamber up behind Daryl's saddle. "They track mostly by sight," Daryl had informed the others. "We'll head off away from the farm, get em movin that way, then circle back when we're out of sight." Keeping a wary eye on the oncoming dead, he clucked to Buck and set him into a slow trot. Instantly, the bouncing gait elicited another wave of pain, added to by Kyle's arms tightening around his midsection. Daryl just grit his teeth and concentrated on the path in front of him. Oh yeah, it was gonna be a long ride home.

OoOoOoOo

The light had faded into a pale imitation of daylight, shadows growing longer and darkening by the moment when Buck and Nellie finally appeared at the edge of Herschel's property. A whisper of wind rustled the tall grass, and the horses stepped out more quickly, eager to be home. Dale sighted them from his position atop the RV, calling out excitedly to the others.

Weary and saddle sore, the small group of riders made their way through the fields into the yard in front of Herschel's home. Daryl reined Buck to a halt, swaying a little in the saddle as the horse stopped. A strong set of hands steadied him, and the touch made Daryl's skin crawl.

People swarmed at them from all sides, questions peppering him.

"Where'd you find her?"

"Way to go Daryl!"

"So what are we going to do with them?"

He barely heard them. He was light headed and his vision swam in front of his eyes. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Daryl looked down at Rick, the Sheriff was speaking to him, he could tell, but he didn't hear a word of it. Then Carol pushed her way front, shaking with joy, tears streaming down her face as she threw her arms open for her daughter. Rick reached up, grasped Sophia under her arms and lifted her up and carried her over to Carol, depositing her squarely in her mother's embrace. Carol fell to her knees, holding Sophia like she'd never let go again. The weight at his back disappeared, and Daryl felt strangely light.

Rick kept a shrewd eye trained on Daryl. The tracker's normally tanned complexion was pale. And Rick noticed the blood on his face, and on his side. Daryl moved to dismount, grimacing as he swung a leg over the saddle and dropped heavily to the ground, using his grip on the saddle to keep himself upright. He turned to take a step toward Rick and wavered. The dark haired young man that had been riding behind the tracker reached out to steady him.

"Fuckin' faggot, get off me!" the redneck yelled. Daryl yanked away, arms pinwheeling as he spun. His left knee buckled and hit the ground. Then the world tilted, which he thought was funny since he wasn't moving. Pinpoints of gray took over his vision, until their was a gauzy veil over the world, and then it was just black, blissful dark, and he fell away into it.

OoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 5

I know I've been terrible about updating, and really this was done a while ago, but I couldn't find a good place to end the chapter. I've rewritten it... a bunch. My original plan would have put me several hundred, if not thousand words further on, and this seemed like a good break, if not a cliffhanger. But please, let me know what you think!


End file.
